


Chance and Change

by greyvvardenfell



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-22 21:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12491588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/greyvvardenfell
Summary: Hope required disbelief, and there was far too much evidence to ignore.---Julian considers the true meaning of the reading he got from Asra's apprentice Otheron, and what the future might hold for him and the man he keeps happening to cross paths with.





	Chance and Change

Julian sat on the edge of the dilapidated aqueduct that fed the city, dangling one long leg over the side and watching crumbles of rock tumble into the water below, disturbing the vampire eels. Each spread of ripples seemed to infuriate them, their pale bodies writhing through the reservoir like maggots in rotting flesh. He found a loose chunk of masonry near his fingers and absently worked it free. It rested in his palm, solid and heavy. He wondered if it would kill an eel from this height. He wondered if the water would cushion its blow or make it hurt worse. He wondered how well the redness of blood would match the hue of the plagued runoff or if —

With effort, he cut off his train of thought. There was too much still to do, too much left unknown. The stone could take the plunge, but not him. Not yet. Julian let it fall, counting the seconds until it splashed into the pool and the eels began to swarm over it. He let out a long, burdened sigh and tilted his head back, allowing his eye to slide shut and his mind to wander. He knew where it wanted to go. He’d been putting it off all day. _Well, no more of that._

 _Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me._ His own words echoed in his ears. It was true, wasn’t it? He hadn’t counted on being reminded of it so starkly, staring down at the skeletal face of Asra’s Death card, but he’d asked for his fortune and, apparently, he’d gotten it. Julian laughed harshly. How Asra would have loved to be the one to pull that card for him, just to rub it in.

But Asra hadn’t pulled the card. His apprentice, Otheron, had. _Otheron._ Such a beautiful name. Julian had always thought so. _A beautiful name for a beautiful man._ He found himself blushing even in the comfort of the night. All through his… involvement… with Asra, he’d known about Otheron. Even when he went away, been cordoned off by the magician’s protectiveness, Julian knew about him. But nothing had ever come of it. How could it have? He was far too busy, then far too taken with Asra, then far too wanted by everyone in Vesuvia. But now…

No. _No._ It was too much to hope that Otheron had remembered him when he’d forgotten so many other things. The apprentice had called him by name because he was a dangerous criminal, a murderer, still wanted for the fiery destruction of the Count even after all this time. Nothing more. Hope required disbelief, and there was far too much evidence to ignore. The glitter in Otheron’s golden eyes, set off by his stunning dark skin, was a trick of the light. When he caught sight of him in the marketplace the morning after, it was a fluke. Coincidence. These things happened.

 _The Death card doesn’t mean what you think it does,_ Asra’s voice told him reprovingly from a deeply buried memory. _It can actually be quite positive. An irrevocable or sudden change, putting the past behind you, beginnings and endings… not bad at all._ Julian swallowed hard, his eye fluttering open. Far below him, the sleek bodies of the eels swirled lazily through shafts of moonlight gleaming on the surface of the brilliant red water.

“‘Change’ could mean anything, good or bad, you fool,” he muttered, both to himself and to the fading image of Asra’s smug face in his mind’s eye. “Putting the past behind me… huh, you’re one to talk.”

Julian rolled his shoulders and sighed again before picking himself up and stretching. He’d lingered here long enough. It was too close to the palace to be a safe place to spend the night, and besides, the Countess’s soldiers would be making their rounds soon. _Whoever decided that guards should have regular patrols clearly didn’t think their targets would pick up on that, did they?_ He made his way down the terraced levels of the aqueduct towards the dingy streets of lower Vesuvia, still wrapped in thought.

By the time his boots hit cobblestones, he’d come to a decision. “If I see him again, it means something,” he said aloud to a signpost, raising an eyebrow at it as if daring it to respond. “Mama always said good things come in threes.” Julian snorted. “God knows I didn’t listen to her enough, but I’ll try to now. She deserves it. At least her memory does.” He sighed and cast a final look back at the towering aqueduct. “But first, I need a drink. Maybe several drinks. Maybe too many drinks. If there was ever a night for it, eh?”

The signpost, predictably, said nothing but “Vesuvia.”

“Good thing I already know where the Rowdy Raven is. You’re no help at all.” He set off for the tavern with his raging thoughts finally settled, sure that Asra’s mysterious apprentice and the strange uncertainty he brought would trouble him no further. _Chance and change, hope and help._ Julian sneered at his reflection in a grimy window as he passed. _What are the odds, really?_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Fictober prompt, "They knew that hope requires disbelief."


End file.
